Gemotions

The old cookbooks were stacked haphazardly in a corner, stained with forgotten recipes and the residue of what appeared to be careless cooking. Sarah flipped through the brittle pages, a growing irritation building within her. The previous owner had evidently been a terrible cook, judging by the under-seasoned, unappetizing meals described in the scribbled notes.

“They thought I wouldn't notice, didn't they?” she muttered, her voice tight with a cold fury.

She knew what she'd do with the cookbooks. She'd find the worst of the recipes, the ones that sounded truly awful, and she would cook them. And she would invite her husband's business partner, who had made a cutting remark about her cooking, to try them. A long, lingering, uncomfortable taste of their incompetence.